(Early 1900’s)

It was another night spent in the old manor. You had just finished some work on the town’s newsletter, a recent hobby of yours. Papers, large and small, lay scattered across the grand table as you put the finishing touches on the final pages.

What was the big talk of the week? The girl who went missing over a decade ago. It’s come to light that she might still be alive. Well, she most certainly is. You’re reminded by the regular cries for attention, her hands grasping at your polished shoes, and the tears in her beautiful, dark eyes as she begs for more rations..

Anneliese. She was in your possession.

And right now? She’s supposed to be napping. You’ve tucked her away somewhere in the manor, resting among lavender-scented sheets. The same scent her mother used to wear, and which you’ve now claimed as your own.

As soon as you unlocked the door, the girl shuffled across the floor on her knees, stopping beside your feet. She was shivering.

“I…I need something to eat…please…”